The town breathed differently at night. Lanterns flickered along cobblestone streets, casting long, quivering shadows that clung to walls and corners like secrets refusing to die. Footsteps echoed where merchants had once shouted, and the distant murmur of taverns blended into a dull, hollow hum. Every alley, every shuttered window, seemed to hold its own memory—of laughter, of fear, of violence now long past.
Akitsu Shouga moved through it all without a sound. A hooded cloak swallowed his frame, the fabric heavy against the cool night air. A dark cloth covered the lower half of his face, hiding any trace of emotion. His black hair was tucked beneath the hood, and his black eyes flicked from intersection to reflection, scanning every window of the closed shops with methodical precision.
Beside him walked Rhen Calder. His orange hair glinted faintly under the lantern light, impossible to fully conceal beneath his own cloak. Orange eyes burned with sharp vigilance, taking in the quiet streets with measured caution. At Rhen’s heel padded Lemon, a small wood lemming whose soft fur seemed almost luminescent in the night. Its presence was oddly comforting, a warm point of life amid the city's cold stillness.
Rhen broke the silence first. “This is where we split,” he said casually, though his tone carried weight. “I need to report to the royal family. What happened in the Solaryn Kingdom isn’t something I can delay.”
Akitsu slowed, then stopped. “You’re heading straight to them?”
“Yeah,” Rhen replied. “No detours. No bars. No explosions.” He smirked faintly. “Try not to burn down half the city while I’m gone.”
Akitsu huffed quietly. “I make no promises.”
Lemon squeaked, climbing briefly onto Rhen’s shoulder.
“You behave too,” Rhen said, tapping the lemming’s nose. “No biting royalty.”
Lemon squeaked again, indignant.
Rhen’s face turned serious. “Be careful, Akitsu. Whatever’s happening here… it’s moving faster than we thought.”
Akitsu nodded once. “I know.”
Without another word, Rhen turned and walked away, Lemon perched on his shoulder. The two disappeared into the lantern-lit streets, swallowed by shadow.
Akitsu watched them go, then turned toward the market district.
The alleyway near the old market was forgotten by most. Trash gathered where stalls had once stood, and the smell of damp stone and old alcohol hung thick in the air. Akitsu slipped into the narrow passage, boots silent against the ground.
At the end of the alley stood a small, empty bar. The sign above creaked softly, faded letters barely readable. Inside, dim candlelight revealed cracked wooden floors and a single figure behind the counter.
An old man, polishing a glass, looked up as Akitsu entered.
“…Been a while,” the bartender said, voice rough with age.
Akitsu approached the counter and rested his gloved hand against the wood. “Devil shot.”
The old man paused. Then he nodded. “Follow me.”
Without another word, the bartender stepped out from behind the counter and led Akitsu through a side door into a cramped storage room stacked with crates and bottles. Moving one box aside, he pressed down on a hidden lever concealed behind it.
With a low rumble, part of the wall slid away, revealing a staircase descending into darkness.
“Same rules,” the bartender muttered. “No names. No noise.”
Akitsu stepped forward. “As always.”
He descended alone.
The hidden bar beneath the city was silent. Too silent.
Once, two years ago, this place had throbbed with life—criminals, mercenaries, information brokers, monsters in human skin. Laughter, arguments, deals sealed in blood and coin. Now? Empty tables. Cold lanterns. Dust coating every surface.
Akitsu’s gaze swept the room. “…So they really are gone,” he murmured, fingers curling slightly.
He moved past the bar and into a narrow hallway lit by a single flickering lamp. At the end stood a door—dark wood, reinforced with metal.
Pushing it open, he entered a small chamber. A single table sat beneath a hanging light. And seated there, exactly as always, was Kaito Morikawa. Black hair, red eyes, same posture, as if time had stopped for him alone.
“Sit,” Kaito said, not looking up.
Akitsu did—but his eyes never left him. “Two years ago, this place couldn’t breathe without someone stabbing someone else. Now there’s no one.”
Kaito’s pen moved steadily across paper. “There’s an underground rival syndicate selling a drug called Ashveil.”
Akitsu’s eyes narrowed. “That doesn’t answer my question.”
Kaito finally looked up. Red eyes sharp. “And I didn’t ask you one.”
Silence stretched between them.
Akitsu exhaled slowly. “You’re dodging.”
“Yes,” Kaito said plainly. “Now listen.”
Akitsu leaned back. “Fine. What do you need me to do about Ashveil?”
Kaito closed the ledger and slid open a drawer beneath the table, pulling out a small 16-centimeter bag filled with pale, shimmering powder. He placed it on the table.
Akitsu stared at it. “That’s it?”
“Ashveil,” Kaito confirmed. “We don’t know how it’s made. We don’t know who distributes it. No ingredients. No supply lines.”
Akitsu’s jaw tightened. “Nothing at all?”
“We do know one thing,” Kaito continued. “The syndicate reported their own hideout to the authorities along with ours.”
Akitsu frowned. “Why would they—”
“Evacuation,” Kaito interrupted. “A trap. The place will be crawling with royal guards in minutes.”
Akitsu’s eyes flicked toward the ceiling. “So this place—”
“Is compromised,” Kaito said calmly. “And so is everything connected to it.”
Akitsu went silent for a moment. “The student council at Fiester Academy is involved.”
“Yes,” Kaito replied. “Which is why you must not interfere. Do not get caught. Do not cross paths unnecessarily.”
Akitsu clenched his fist. “Then what exactly am I supposed to do?”
Kaito leaned back. “Continue doing what you’re already doing.”
Akitsu let out a sharp breath. “That’s not an answer.”
“It’s the only one you’ll get.”
Akitsu looked down at the bag of Ashveil. “…Kaoru.”
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Kaito stood abruptly. “She’s fine.”
Akitsu looked up sharply.
“She’ll have a little sibling in a few months,” Kaito added casually. “Healthy. Nothing to worry about.”
Akitsu froze. “…How do you—”
“You worry too much,” Kaito said, turning toward a wall. Pressing a hidden button, the stone slid aside, revealing a narrow, dark passage.
“Follow me,” Kaito said. “Unless you want to meet the guards.”
Akitsu hesitated only a second before stepping inside. The wall closed behind him as if it had never existed.
Seconds later, the bar above erupted with noise.
Royal guards burst through the door, weapons drawn.
“Search everything!” one barked.
A lever caught their attention. They pulled it. The passage opened.
Down the stairs they rushed—and realized too late.
“TNT—!”
The explosion tore through the underground bar, fire and stone collapsing inward. The shockwave shook the market district, flames erupting through the alleyway as the structure caved in. Screams were swallowed by fire.
Above, the night burned.
Below, Akitsu and Kaito moved through hidden tunnels in silence. The explosion echoed faintly behind them.
“…You planned this,” Akitsu finally spoke.
Kaito didn’t deny it. “They were already dead the moment they stepped inside.”
Akitsu’s eyes darkened. “Ashveil isn’t the only thing poisoning this city.”
“No,” Kaito agreed. “But it’s the loudest.”
They disappeared into the darkness. Somewhere above, the academy slept—unaware that the fire had already been lit beneath its foundations.
Rhen Calder strode through the polished marble halls of Ashkara’s royal palace. The scent of incense mingled with the cold, clean stone, and the torches along the walls cast golden light that glimmered off armored guards stationed at precise intervals.
At the end of the hall, a massive chamber opened. The King of Ashkara, Akiyama Ashen, sat on his throne, clad in ceremonial robes with a heavy gold chain across his chest. His eyes, sharp and calculating, fixed on Rhen the moment he entered.
“Rhen Calder,” the King said, voice calm but carrying the weight of authority. “I hear you’ve returned with news.”
Rhen bowed slightly. “Your Majesty. The Solaryn Kingdom situation is resolved.” He stepped closer, hands clasped behind his back. “The cult that had been terrorizing your kingdom—spreading fear, coercing townsfolk, and utilizing drugs that warp the mind—has been fully contained. They are all in Solaryn custody, and justice will be served swiftly.”
The King’s eyes softened, pride flickering across his face. “You acted decisively. Their methods were vile, their reach dangerous. And yet you brought this to a conclusion without unnecessary bloodshed?”
“Yes, Your Majesty,” Rhen replied. “The Solaryn authorities will ensure the cult answers for their crimes, and the townspeople will begin recovery immediately.”
The King nodded, rising from his throne. “You’ve done well, Rhen. Ashkara is fortunate to have such vigilance in its service.” He placed a firm hand on Rhen’s shoulder. “Return to your duties. Let this victory guide the morale of our people, and know that your actions reflect the strength of this kingdom.”
Rhen bowed once more. “Thank you, Your Majesty.”
The King waved him away. “Go. The city watches, and so must we all.”
Rhen turned and left, walking swiftly through the halls, ready for whatever came next, carrying the quiet satisfaction of a job well done.
The next morning.
The hallway near the central board was louder than it had been all week.
Footsteps echoed off stone. Voices overlapped. Someone laughed—sharp, disbelieving. Someone else cursed under their breath.
Ryozen Kaoru slowed as he approached the crowd.
Students from every class were packed shoulder to shoulder, staring at the massive black display bolted into the wall. Chalk dust hung faintly in the air. Names covered the board from top to bottom.
Kaoru stepped closer.
Then he saw the scores.
SURVIVAL CAMP — FINAL CLASS PERFORMANCE
1st Place — Class 3-B
Score: 1460 / 1500
Aerin Solace
Valtor Quinn
Nyra Bellwyn
Cael Rook
Ilyas Thorn
Seraphine Korr
Deno Ashfall
Elric Vane
Lysa Morholt
Kieran Flux
Tomael Crest
Virel Dawn
Rowan Pike
Selene Wyrd
A low murmur rolled through the crowd.
Kaoru’s eyes didn’t linger long. He kept reading.
2nd Place — Class 3-C
Score: 1260 / 1500
Ryozen Kaoru (Leader)
Hoshino Rei
Takumi Vale
Lina Morwen
Daisuke Rho
Mirei Solas
Jun Arclight
Nara Felin
Kaito Viven
Sora Myles
Eina Frost
Riku Han
Yumi Calder
Shin Orvell
Mako Len
For a moment, everything went quiet in Kaoru’s head.
Second place.
Not victory—but not failure either.
Someone behind him whispered, “They actually held their ground.”
Another voice replied, “Against 3-B? That’s insane.”
Kaoru exhaled slowly. His shoulders loosened just a fraction.
Then his gaze dropped to the bottom of the board.
3rd Place — Class 3-A
Score: 510 / 1500
Itsuki Raien (Leader)
Kenta Moru
Mio Hanekawa
Ren Falk
Arata Shinjo
Hiyori Kaze
Lucien Ward
Noa Kisaragi
Felix Crowe
Saeko Minami
Theo Brant
Mika Hollow
Ryo Kesshin
Alina Weiss
The reaction was instant.
Gasps. Stunned silence. Then murmurs that grew sharper by the second.
“Last place…?”
“Three-A?”
“That score’s not even close—”
Kaoru stared at the number.
510.
He didn’t smile.
He didn’t frown.
He simply took it in—filed it away.
Itsuki Raien’s name sat at the top of the list like a blade pressed against glass. Still intact. Still dangerous. But cracked.
Kaoru turned away from the board, the noise of the crowd washing back over him.
Second place meant they survived.
But first place had escaped them.
And last place—
Kaoru knew better than to think that meant finished.
Not in this academy.
